Power lines, towers. I love the industrial. Our fair city was an industrial town. Unions may still rule in some circles but that overall serfdom of guaranteed employment is an era now only in the dusty clipping in forgotten folders of historical archives. The jobs are gone and never came back. The jobs still exist, just not in America. We like to hide our industrial past; the legacy of FDR is remembered as being worth only a dime. Like to hide our industrial present to, at least the infrastructure needs that power our lights and computers. They endow our appliances with their blinking lights. The metal jungle of our power stations and transformers, where electricity is generated and makes our lives hum and subways go. It all means work, and life. Might look stark and lonely, nothing here for the flesh. What is true beauty? Isn’t the infrastructure as magnificent as what it enables you to produce? I see this and know somewhere happiness is being pursued even if that happiness forever remains as unseen to here as these labyrinth of cables and towers are as unseen to there. The life we live is anything but separate, just like the energy we require that only exists because of the need that it must be shared by distribution.